Catching Pathways

by Danielle Berggren

  “But we had other friends, allies. How was I the one who made a difference in the group? For all you know, it was Pike who was instrumental to Sebastian’s success. I have nothing. A little magic, a little swordcraft, but I’m vulnerable. Fragile, especially compared to a Fae.”

  He took a step toward her, looming above her shorter frame. “You underestimate yourself. You underestimate your influence.” He paused, and then continued. “We should be on our way. We’ll talk on this more, later.”

  Walking, it took them hours to come across a village, and almost the same amount of time to convince the only family with horses to part with a pair. Maeve tried not to balk as Rodan handed over a king’s ransom of gold coins to the farmers and turned his attention to checking over the tack that came with the horses. He continued to negotiate, insisting that the couple must have better saddles hidden away. Sure enough, they did. Neither recognized him despite his royal colors.

  It was early afternoon by the time she and Rodan rode out of the village, him on a beautiful large black destrier and her on a smaller chestnut-brown palfrey. While Rodan’s horse—named Ender—was a magnificent creature, Maeve’s nerves frayed around him. There was too much fire in his eyes, and when she stroked his neck, he tried to bite her. But Rodan was able to quiet the creature, and they looked a pretty picture together, with Rodan’s hair nearly disappearing into the inky black coat of the horse.

  Maeve’s horse, Leona, was a female of far better temperament and a smooth ambling walk that she appreciated considering how long it had been since she rode a horse. The wife of the couple they’d bought from had said Leona was her personal favorite and charged a high price because of it. Ender, on the other hand, they had practically given away.

  Maeve squeezed her legs to spur her horse to come up beside Rodan. He rode with the reins held loose in one hand, his gaze fixed on the distant valley spreading out before them, surrounded on two sides by craggy mountains. He looked over at her when she came to his side. “How does she feel?”

  Maeve reached forward and ran a hand down Leona’s neck. She flicked her ears back at her rider in response. “Good. Better than I thought, considering—”

  “It’s been years?” he finished for her, flashing a quick smile. “Some skills you never unlearn.” He gave her a long, considering look. “You have a good seat.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taken aback. “You too, I guess.”

  This time he laughed. “We learned how to ride as soon as we could walk in the Fae court.”

  They were silent for a while before she spoke again. “What was it like, being raised in the court? And why did you come here? There aren’t many Fae in the Five Realms from what I remember.”

  “None but I, as it happens,” he said. They rode for a while in silence before he continued. “The court is a vast place, full of intrigue and manipulations. It’s not the most pleasant home. But there are many worlds, and we can strike out on our own if we see fit. I found my way here after some exploration and decided to bring the Realms to heel. Back then, there were the five squabbling kingdoms and little to unite the people. It took a great deal of time, but I brought it all together and helped a tenuous peace take place.”

  “Wait,” Maeve interrupted. “You mean to tell me that you are the original King Rodan? I knew you lived a long time, but—I thought that was a title passed down through generations.”

  He shook his head. “No. I found this place, and I claimed it for my own. I have been here ever since.”

  She did some quick mental calculations. “That would mean—that would make you over two thousand years old.”

  He gave a subdued nod. “That is correct.”

  She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “Two millennia? That sounds—incredible.”

  He glanced at her. “I have never known anything else, Maeve.”

  “Except for the court and your recent time in exile, traveling all those worlds to find me. Don’t you want to travel more, discover more? Why stay here? What’s so important about the Five Realms?”

  He shook his head. “I would not return to the court for anything other than state function, and exile did not agree with me. I belong to this land, and she belongs to me. I know its people and its places. I have seen the rivers change, and the cultures evolve, and I want nothing more than to continue to observe the wonderment of it all.”

  Maeve tried to turn over in her mind the enormity of a life so long spent in pursuit and achievement of a singular goal.

  She looked over at him, and sometimes he caught her eyes, but they remained silent. The twin suns dipped and tumbled down until they were bathed in the slanted light of near sunset. Ahead of them, at the end of the valley, rose the curtain walls of the mountain city of Ishtem, the ancient seat of the human kings and the first of the major cities of the Five Realms.

  “Do you think we’ll get there before nightfall?”

  He nodded, “We should be able to make it.”

  The gates of Ishtem were open when they arrived, flanked by a small contingent of guards on either side. The imperial colors of gold and black had been stripped from the pennants. Instead, the red and blue falcons locked in combat flew over the rooftops. The ancient sigil of the city. Rodan looked up at the banners with a frown but said nothing.

  The guards ignored them. Maeve and Rodan had to go single file once they were in among the narrow streets of the city. The last time Maeve walked these streets, the people were overcome with a plague. Weeks they spent, nursing the sick and searching for a cure. They found it, eventually, but not before more than thirty percent of the populace succumbed to the sickness.

  The streets reeked then, awash in refuse and the dead lay where they fell, or else propped outside the doors of families who no longer stood the smell in their home. Rats boomed in numbers, some as big as large puppies with sleek black and grey coats and no fear of any human.

  Now the streets filled with the wind making its way over the walls and through the narrow winding roads. Dust and clean straw met her nose, along with the faint odors of dozens of cookfires. Despite this, Maeve noted an eerie silence to the place that gnawed at her nerves.

  Rodan led them to a large inn with a generously large stable beside it. They dismounted, and Rodan motioned to the stable hand hiding in the shadows of a stall. The boy slinked toward them, eyes downcast and back stooped, clutching a hat in both his hands.

  “Boy,” Rodan said, holding out a silver coin, “Put our horses up. Brush them and feed them and make sure they have fresh straw.”

  The boy gave an awkward little bow that almost made him topple over before snatching the coin and taking the reins of both horses, leading them away. Maeve stared as the boy ducked into the shadows of the stables. “There’s something wrong here,” she said, her voice low.

  Rodan nodded. “Indeed, I believe there is.” He tilted his head toward the front door of the inn, which sported a wooden placard of a checkered-hatted jester toasting with a mug of ale. “Shall we?”

  Rodan ducked through the low door as they entered the inn’s great room. Tall ceilings crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, a roaring fire, and two long rows of tables laid out for supper greeted them. The scent of roasting meat hung heavy in the air, as did the sharp tang of spilled ale and the dusty sweetness of fresh straw. Over a dozen people sat scattered along the tables, drinking, eating, or talking.

  As the door swung shut behind them, a stocky woman bustled out of a back kitchen, wiping her hands on a stained apron and sweeping them with an appraising look. What she saw must have pleased her, because her stern expression replaced itself with a full, welcoming smile.

  “Why hello, travelers,” she greeted. “My names Yolanda. Are you here for supper, or will you be needing accommodations?”

  “Both,” Maeve said, smiling back. “Thank you.”

  “A pleasure, my little duck,” the mistress of the house crooned. “We’re almost at full capacity because of the festival, but we still hav
e the best room available.”

  “Room?” Maeve echoed, her eyes widening.

  “We require two rooms,” Rodan said. “If you please.”

  The woman frowned. “I’m sorry, loves, but we’re all full. Here, let me show you the space, and you let me know if you still want it or if you’ll be trying your luck elsewhere. But I warn you, the city is crammed with visitors, and you may not find what you’re looking for.”

  Maeve glanced at Rodan, who raised an eyebrow. She looked away, heat coming to her face. She hated how often that seemed to happen. Without glancing at him again, she followed the woman up the narrow stairs to the second floor. A long L-shaped hallway curved over the tavern and the kitchens. They walked until they reached the end, where the innkeeper pulled out a large set of keys and unlocked the very last door. She stepped aside and let the two of them pass.

  The room, huge considering the limited space of the city, contained a massive wide bed, a fireplace, a long couch, and a private dining table and chairs.

  Maeve looked up at Rodan. “I could just take the couch.”

  He shook his head but looked back at the innkeeper. “We’ll take it.”

  She beamed at them. “That’s well and good, loves. It’ll be eight silvers for the room, and two more for dinner and breakfast if you’re so inclined. I can bring you up your own plate from the kitchens.”

  Maeve reached into the pouch on her belt and extracted a gold piece. “Could I get two flagons of your finest wine as well, please?”

  The woman snatched the gold piece, bit into the side of it, and tucked it away into her bodice with a quickness. “Of course, my lambs. I’ll be right back.”

  After the door closed, Rodan gave a little chuckle. “You overpaid.”

  “We can afford it. And you spent a fortune on those horses. We could have bought a herd with the price you paid.” She sank on to the couch and began unlacing her boots. “I’m beat. I want to have a nice meal and something to drink and just curl up until sunset tomorrow.”

  “You’ll take the bed,” Rodan said. “Let me take the couch.”

  “You’re too tall for the couch,” Maeve pointed out. She bounced a bit on the cushioned seat. “Plus this is just fine. I’ll steal one of your covers. It looks like she provides plenty.”

  He made a soft scoffing sound, but before he said anything more, there came a quick rap on the door, and the innkeeper appeared again. She bore a tray laden with fruit, two goblets, and two bottles of red wine. She set the tray on the table, gave a quick curtsy, and disappeared.

  Rodan went over to inspect the fruit, popping a cherry into his mouth before pulling the seed out from between his teeth. He poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to Maeve, who flopped the last boot to the ground, shoving the pair under the couch with the heel of her foot. “Thanks,” she said and took a deep drink. The wine, a dry-sweet blend, had just enough of both to be a bit bland. But the alcohol that swept on the heels of it was what she had been looking for.

  Rodan took a sip of his own goblet and made a face. “Surely you don’t enjoy this?”

  She shook her head. “I prefer a dry red, but this will do.”

  Rodan plucked the goblet from her fingers and moved his hand over the brim before passing it back to her. “Try it now.”

  She did, and a robust dry red swept over her tongue. She gave a murmur of approval before setting the goblet down on a side table, leaning back against the couch. Her stomach rumbled, and she sighed, looking around the room.

  Maeve never thought she would be back here. After the first few years of her late teens, early twenties, she had given up on the prospect of being pulled back to aid Sebastian with anything new. And she never, in a million years, thought her old enemy would bring her here.

  Rodan took a seat at the table, taking another cherry from the bowl, his head falling back as he studied the tin ceiling tiles. Maeve’s eyes tracked him, an unknown sensation beginning to coil between her heart and her stomach. It fluttered, and she thought she might be sick, or she might fly apart into a billion little pieces. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, per se, but it was intense.

  As she stared, Rodan moved his hands over each of the wine bottles and his own goblet. He straightened and surveyed her from across the room. Maeve tucked herself up against the corner of the couch, legs coiled underneath her and the wine glass suspending in one hand. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Maeve acknowledged this as one of the only times she had been able to look at someone for any length of time without the flush of embarrassment, or the need to look away.

  “Do you want any fruit?” he asked, motioning to the bowl in front of him on the table. That voice of his was low and warm, wrapping around her like a fleece blanket. “Or more wine?”

  Both seemed like a dangerous idea, for both required her moving closer to him. Something seemed to be building in the air, something that Maeve tried with desperation not to name. “No,” she said. “Thank you.”

  The pressure built until another knock sounded on the door, and the innkeeper poked her head in. “Hello, loves. Here’s something from the kitchens for you.” Another tray, this one loaded with two enormous pies, plunked down next to Rodan, who gave a nod of thanks. “Do you need anything else?”

  They both shook their heads, and the innkeeper took her leave. Rodan stood and, once the door shut behind her, put down the crossbar. Maeve shivered with unease at the thought of being locked in here with him but said nothing. It’s not unlike sleeping in the tent, like last night, she told herself. She uncurled from the sofa and sank into the chair opposite Rodan’s at the dining table, pulling a pie toward her and breaking the crust so the flavorful steam escaped.

  They ate in silence, and Maeve poured another glass of wine. The warmth stole through her as she drank, a comforting thing. She always enjoyed a glass of wine or two with a meal, but when she poured a third, she accepted that tonight, she needed a little something extra to take the edge off.

  Her limbs fell heavy at her sides, and a sweet swimming sensation suffused her mind when she finished with the lamb and vegetable pie. Normally, she would not eat so much, but two days of hard travel were enough to give her a roaring appetite.

  She looked at Rodan, who studied her with his chin in his hand. She pointed a finger at him. “Earlier today, you said I was the reason Sebastian succeeded at winning the throne. You said that’s why you pulled me through. What did you mean?”

  He twirled his wine glass and straightened in his seat. “Perhaps I did watch you, more than a little. Some of my gifts run to scrying, and I saw the way you comported yourself with my subjects. I watched you weave your spells. You were a natural.”

  Maeve tried to ignore the part of her assessing every plant an animal that they came across. She never thought this way in her own world, the magic there nonexistent. Here, the world was saturated with the stuff. She could tell, without knowing how, that the tendons of a rabbit’s foot wrapped around a stub of a candle would speed a lover to her. That Elizabeth’s lace would, in a tea, bring nightmares to the drinker. That an oak leaf, suspended in clear water from a mountain stream, would point its stem toward her heart’s desire.

  “Sebastian did not teach you about the craft, did he? That was something you discovered on your own.”

  Maeve nodded, and took another large swallow of wine. “It was. We don’t have magic in my world.”

  “You do,” Rodan dissented, “but it is subtler than what is found in the Realms. All the worlds I have walked have some form of magic.”

  She drained her glass and reached for the one remaining bottle, pouring her fourth near to the brim. “It’s dangerous. Potions and spells. It led me down a—a dark path, last time I was here.”

  Rodan’s eyes flashed in the firelight. “Yes. I thought so.”

  Maeve peered at him. “Is that why you want me? For the—do you want the larger magic I can wield?”

  He tipped his head to one side and then the o
ther. “Yes and no. I am aware of the cost of such spells. That you’re capable of them makes you valuable. Your reticence to use them makes you admirable. But it was more than that which made you the perfect candidate for a companion to the trials.”

  She gulped more wine, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and focused on him. The room started to swim a little, but this was a topic of conversation she did not want to handle sober. “So what is it then? What makes me the perfect candidate?”

  He reached out and plucked the wine goblet away from her, placing it on the far end of the table. She glared at him, but he ignored her. He took two apples from the tray of fruit and before her eyes they transformed into a glass of water. He pushed it toward her. “I have seen how you interact with the citizens of the Realms. You care about them. They care about you. While you were with Sebastian, you managed to convince even my troops to raise their shields for your cause. It wasn’t him, it was you. He was the focus, but you were the tide that swept the people to him.” He sipped his glass and raised an eyebrow at her, pushing the water closer. “I need you to do this same thing for me.”

  She grasped the water glass and narrowed her eyes while taking a drink. The water, cold and sweet, tasted like fresh snow melt. She drank it down, and the world came into slightly sharper focus. Not by much, but some. She turned that focus on Rodan. “Even if I agree with your assessment of me, what makes you think I’ll do that for you?”

  “Because, you know that I am the best choice for the people. As we go on, you’ll see more of what Sebastian has done to this world. No one else is rising against him, until now. We need to get as many people on our side as possible.”

  Maeve shook her head. “Even if we have the entire Realms rise up in your name, when it comes down to it there’s the duel between you and Sebastian. No one else.”

  There was a glimpse of that smile, his gorgeous smile, there and then gone. A flash. “Most magic wielders can gain power from belief and support. It buoys them up. Sebastian rode that wave. So will I.”